The Other Side of the Clouds

A week after the foreign exchange student arrives, the rain starts.

At times it explodes from dark clouds and nearly floods the town. At others is weakens to a drizzle. But it never stops completely. People roam the streets frizzy-haired, cuffs soaked. Dazed, touchy, and quick to argue.

Even Beth, a life-long admirer of storms, is tired of the constant downpour. The joy of a rainstorm is its…

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soft, dependable

don’t trust my senses. can’t tell if it’s cold or I am.

if I’m hungry or just weak, sad or just not happy. don’t trust

the blue sky because the rain comes fast. not a cloud

and then a storm – when did things become so difficult

to predict? don’t trust where I am. falling asleep, I suspect

I might not wake up. I have to make peace with death before

I drift off. don’t trust what will happen…

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lone-nyctophile:

- Beau Taplin

t3nderbeasts:

I am only a handful of crappy humans interactions away from going absolutely feral and running away to some ancient forest and becoming a new local myth.

amatesura:

armor, 1617

(Source: samlingar.shm.se)

tayorswift:

Paramore performing Hard Times / Heart of Glass at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, TN

rumll-deactivated20230105:

now

the breeze coming through my window smells

of old cigarettes and the stench should remind me of something past

but it reaches forward instead. I’ll remember now someday

so vivid it will make me cry. I wonder if alone is temporary (and

I’m missing the chance to enjoy it) or if alone is

the start of a miserable decline I could’ve stopped

if only I’d caught myself in time. It takes a lot of…

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how old am I really?

I very nearly almost forgot I had a birthday.

it’s not that close, it’s not next week but I almost forgot

it was a possibility at all. aging though, that never leaves my mind.

I count the minutes and the seconds, sometimes, that I’m wasting.

there’s nothing to do but spend some time here: complicate

a simple commission, worry myself into wrinkles,

burn a candle full of sage on a new moon…

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Meet Schrödinger’s Cat (and mine!)

I named my cat after Einstein. Actually, I had the name before I had the cat.

Albert (the kitten, not the genius) came to me shy and understandably wary. He was dumped when he was very young and adopted into a family of screaming siblings who tumbled over him for attention. He didn’t like hands, he still doesn’t quite grasp the concept of gravity, and like all cats he can’t get enough of a good…

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consistency

it’s all too big and unbearable

and here I am, burnt pink from the sun

trying to reason with it. too small to be

in the world, I cower from it.

the seaside is for healing hurts you cannot

see and I am a wound in need of salt.

few escapes from the shame

but the ocean swaying me still

and pooling my senses—cold, lighter, brighter,

with arms stretched for sinking.

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i’ve got no problem with spiders

i’ve got no problem with spiders

i let the redback

on the ceiling of my bathroom die of natural causes

and her body is yet to fall—a reminder of my kindness.

the spindly one in the kitchen walked right under my foot

as if i hadn’t been poised to stamp the very next moment

—knows me better than i know myself. they see

the sanctuary that is my second-floor apartment, where

cobwebs are dusted inconsistently

and apathy might…

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How We See Ourselves (Where I Write About Webb Without Writing About Webb)

How We See Ourselves (Where I Write About Webb Without Writing About Webb)

When I was a teenager I dragged my mum to an observatory on an overcast night. Unable to show us much more than the underside of a cloud, the staff sat us in front of a projector and played a video. It started on the Earth, a blue marble in perfect blackness, then backed away to reveal the Moon… the solar system… the Milky Way… and eventually the host of galaxies that exist alongside it. I heard…

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happyheidi:

(via)

ms-mandy-m:

Wedding Wednesday:

Ziad Nakad Fall 2017 Couture